It was over three months later that Sir Nicholas Beauvallet went riding
southwards from Paris towards the Spanish border. There had been
some necessary delay at home: treasure to be bestowed at the Queen's
pleasure, and his own affairs to look to. He had also to visit his
sister in Worcestershire, and she would not soon let him go. He made
a merry month of it there, but told Adela nothing of his plans, and
trifled shamelessly with the ladies she brought forward to tempt him
into matrimony.
The licence to travel was obtained from Walsingham easily enough.
Beauvallet was closeted with this enigmatic man for a full hour, and
protested afterwards that the Secretary made him shiver. But it is
believed that they were much of a mind in that both would welcome war
with Spain.
With Joshua Dimmock, and a fair stock of money against his needs Sir
Nicholas came at last to Paris, and inquired for his distant kinsman,
Eustache de Beauvallet, Marquis de Belrémy. This nobleman, whom
Nicholas had not met since certain riotous days in Italy, when both
were in the early twenties, was not to be found at his town house. His
servants reported him to be at Belrémy, in Normandy, but Beauvallet
heard other news that placed the Marquis further south, on a visit
to a friend. There was nothing to be gained from seeking the elusive
Marquis through France; Beauvallet swore genially at the delay, and
sat him down to await his kinsman's return. He did not visit either
the English ambassador, or the Court of Henri III. For the one, he
preferred his presence in France to be unknown; for the other, the
fopperies of the French Court were not at all to his taste. He found
the means to amuse himself outside the Court, and passed the time very
pleasantly.
At the end of a month the Marquis returned to Paris, and hearing of
Beauvallet's visit, straightway kicked his major-domo for allowing his
so dear kinsman to lodge otherwhere than in his house, and set forth at
once in a horse-litter to find Sir Nicholas.
Beauvallet had a comfortable lodging near the Seine. It suited him
very well, but Joshua muttered darkly, and saw a Catholic murderer in
every convivial guest who came there. Saint Bartholomew's Day was fresh
enough yet in a plain Englishman's mind, said he.
The Marquis, a wiry, resplendent personage, no more than a year older
than Beauvallet, came tempestuously into his room, and clasped his
kinsman in an ecstatic embrace with many suitable exclamations and
reproaches. It was long before Beauvallet could come to his business,
for the Marquis had much to say, and much to ask, and many mad memories
to recall. But at length the reason for this visit was asked, and then
they came to grips. When the Marquis heard that Sir Nicholas wanted
a French pass into Spain he at first threw up hands of despair, and
cried "Impossible!" At the end of half an hour he said:--"Well, well,
perhaps! But it is madness, and it will be a forgery, and you are
a good-for-naught to ask it of me!" Within the week he brought the
pass, and said only "Aha!" when Beauvallet asked how he had managed
to procure it. It gave leave for a M. Gaston de Beauvallet to travel
abroad. Beauvallet learned that this Gaston was a cousin of the
Marquis, and chuckled.
"But look you, my friend!" the Marquis cautioned him. "Do not stumble
upon our Ambassador, for he knows Gaston well, and us all. I caution
you, be wary! Ah, but to travel into Spain at all! And with that name!
Madness! Unutterable folly!"
"_Basta, basta!_" said Sir Nicholas, and frowned upon the pass.
Now as he rode south it was in his mind that this pass, though it would
safely carry him across the Frontier was likely to lead him to exposure
at Madrid. He rode in silence, pondering it rather ruefully, but
presently he twitched his shoulders as though to cast off these cares,
and spurred his horse to a gallop. Joshua, following at a soberer pace
with a led sumpter, watched his master disappear down the road in a
cloud of dust, and shook his head. "Our last venture," said Joshua, and
kicked his horse to a brisker pace. "A plague on all women! Come up,
jade!"
They made no great haste on the journey, for Sir Nicholas was loth to
part with the horse he had bought in Paris. It bore him nobly, and he
cherished it well. They went south by degrees, resting at the inns
along the post road, and came at last to a lonely tavern within half a
day's ride of the Frontier.
It lay in a squalid village, and was obviously unfrequented by
travellers. The last great inn they had passed housed a sick man, whom
Joshua was quick to nose out. He got wind of a pestilent fever, and was
urgent with his master not to remain. The afternoon was young yet, and
the sun warm. Beauvallet consented to ride on.
So they came at dusk to this rude inn, lying a little way off the post
road. None came forth to welcome them, so Joshua went to kick the door,
and raised a shout. Mine host came out, surly-seeming, but when he saw
so richly caparisoned a gentleman he lost his scowl, and bowed to the
ground. There was a room for the gentleman to be sure, if monseigneur
would condescend to this poor abode.
"I condescend," said Sir Nicholas. "Have you a truckle-bed, my man?
Then set it up in my chamber for my servant." He swung himself down
from the saddle, and fondled his mare a moment. "Eh, my beauty!" He had
had her through the Marquis' advice, a fine, fleet black, with powerful
quarters, and a mouth of velvet. "Take her, Joshua." He stretched
himself, and swore at his stiffness. The landlord set open the door,
and bowed him into the low-pitched taproom.
Beauvallet sent him to fetch wine, and seemed to snuff the air.
"Faugh!" It was squalid in the taproom, of a piece with the untidy yard
without. He went to the window and forced it open to let in the clean
air.
The landlord came back with the wine, looked askance at the open
window, and muttered a little under his breath. Sir Nicholas drank
deeply, and upon the shuffling entrance of an out-at-elbows servant,
stretched out his legs to have the high boots pulled off.
He was at supper--a meagre collation which drew sundry pungent remarks
from Joshua--when there came the sound of a led horse on the cobbles
outside. A moment later the door was thrust open, and a young
gentleman came in, very out of temper.
He was dressed richly, but dust lay on his fine clothes. He scowled
at Beauvallet, seated at the table, and shouted for the landlord.
Upon this worthy's coming the young gentleman burst into a flood of
angry talk. His woes seemed to be many. There was, to start with, the
excessive dust upon the road which had well-nigh choked him; to go on,
there was a sick man at the regular inn some miles back; to crown his
troubles his horse had gone lame, the jade, and another must be brought
him on the instant.
Having delivered himself of this demand my fine gentleman flung off his
cloak, bespoke supper, and sat down on the settle with the air of a
thwarted school-boy.
The problem of horse-flesh was beyond the landlord's solving. He gave
his new guest to understand that he had no riding horse in his stables,
nor could he tell where any might be found in this hamlet. Monsieur
must send to the nearest town, back along the road.
At this monsieur let forth an oath, and declared that he had no time to
waste, but must be gone over the Frontier first thing in the morning.
Mine host had nothing to say to this, but shrugged sullenly, and turned
away. His ear was seized between a finger and thumb. "Look you! a
horse, and swiftly!" snarled monsieur.
"I keep no horse," reiterated the landlord. He rubbed his ear,
aggrieved. "There are but two horses in my barn, and they belong to
this gentleman."
Upon this monsieur became aware of Beauvallet, struggling with a tough
fowl. He bowed slightly. Sir Nicholas raised an eyebrow, and nodded in
return, wasting little ceremony.
"Give you good-evening, monsieur." The young gentleman tried to conceal
his ill-temper. "You will have heard that I have suffered a misfortune."
"Ay, faith, the whole house will have heard it," said Sir Nicholas, and
poured more wine.
Monsieur bit his lip. "I have urgent need of a horse," he announced. "I
shall be happy to buy one or other of your nags, if you will sell."
"A thousand thanks," Sir Nicholas answered.
Monsieur brightened. "You will oblige me?"
"Desolated, sir! I cannot oblige you," said Sir Nicholas, who had small
mind to part with his horses.
This seemed final, to be sure. A rich colour mounted to monsieur's
cheeks; he choked back his spleen, and condescended to plead, though
stiffly.
Sir Nicholas tilted back his chair, and tucked his hands in his belt.
He looked mockingly at the young Frenchman. "My good young sir, I
counsel you to be patient," he said, "You may send to the town in the
morning, and procure a horse against your needs. I do not part with
mine."
"One of these nags!" Monsieur snorted. "I do not think that would suit
me, sir."
"And I am quite sure it would not suit me, sir," said Sir Nicholas.
The Frenchman looked at him with evident dislike. "I have informed you,
sir, that my need is instant."
Sir Nicholas yawned.
For a moment the Frenchman seemed inclined to burst forth into fresh
vituperations. He bit his nails, glaring, and took a quick turn about
the room. "You use me ungraciously!" he flung over his shoulder.
"Well-a-day!" said Sir Nicholas ironically.
Monsieur took yet another turn, seemed again to choke back some hasty
utterance, and at length forced a smile. "Well, I will not quarrel with
you," he said,
"You would find it very difficult," nodded Sir Nicholas.
Monsieur opened his mouth, shut it again, and swallowed hard. "Permit
me to share your board," he said at last.
"With all my heart, youngling," Sir Nicholas answered, but there had
come a watchful gleam into his eyes.
But the Frenchman seemed to cast aside his evil-humours in good sooth.
True, he railed a little at ill-fortune, but was forward with plans for
the acquisition of a horse upon the morrow. The plague was on it he
could scarce hope to get across the Frontier now for two days. As he
remembered the town lay many leagues behind--but he would not complain.
He pledged Beauvallet in a brimming cup.
Supper being at an end, monsieur grew restless, complained of the
ill-entertainment, pished at the poor light afforded by two tallow
candles, and at length proposed an encounter with the dice, if such
might chance to jump with monsieur's humour.
"Excellent well," said Beauvallet, and banged on the table with his
empty cup to summon back the landlord. Dice were brought, more wine was
set upon the table, and the evening bade fair to be merry.
The dice rattled in the box. "A main!" said monsieur.
Beauvallet called it, and cast the dice. Monsieur rattled the bones,
and threw a nick. Coins were pushed across the greasy boards; fresh
wine was poured; the two men bent over the table, absorbed in the game.
It was a merry evening enough. The candles burned low in their sockets;
the wine passed freely, and more freely yet; money changed hands, back
and forth. At last one of the candles guttered dismally, and went
out. Beauvallet thrust back his chair, and passed a hand across his
brow. "Enough!" he said, somewhat thickly. "God's me, after midnight
already?" He rose unsteadily, and stretched his arms above his head.
This made for a slight stagger. He laughed. "Cup-shotten!" he said, and
laughed again, and swayed a little on his toes.
The Frenchman sprang up, steady enough upon his feet, but flushed, and
somewhat wild-eyed. He had not drunk as much as Beauvallet. "A last
toast!" he cried, and slopped more wine into the empty cups. "To a
speedy journey, say I!"
"God save you!" said Beauvallet. He drank deep, and sent the empty cup
spinning over his shoulder to crash against the wall behind him. "One
candle between the two of us." He picked it up, and the hot tallow
dripped on to the floor. "Up with you, youngling." He stood at the
foot of the rickety stairs, holding the candle unsteadily aloft. The
dim light flickered over the steps; the Frenchman went up, with a hand
against the wall.
Upstairs a lantern, burning low, was discovered. The Frenchman took it,
called a good-night, and went into his chamber. Sir Nicholas, yawning
prodigiously, sought his own, and stumbled over the low truckle-bed on
which Joshua lay peacefully asleep. "God's Death!" swore Sir Nicholas.
Joshua was awakened by a drop of tallow alighting on his nose, and
started up, rubbing the afflicted member.
Beauvallet set down the candle, laughing. "My poor Joshua!"
"Master, you are in your cups," Joshua said severely.
"None so deep," said Sir Nicholas cheerfully, and found the basin and
ewer that stood upon a rude chest. There was a great splashing of
water, and a spluttering. "Pouf!" said Sir Nicholas, towelling his
head. "Go to sleep, starveling. What are you at?"
Joshua was for rising. "You've need to come out of those clothes, sir,"
said he.
"Oh, let be!" said Beauvallet, and flung himself down as he was upon
the bed.
The candle went out, but the moonlight shone in at the uncurtained
window. It lit Beauvallet's face, but could not keep him awake. Soon a
snore disturbed the stillness, and then another.
He was awakened out of a deep sleep by a hand shaking his shoulder, and
a hissing whisper in his ear. He came groping out of the mists, felt
the clutch upon his shoulder, and of instinct shot out a pair of hands
to grasp the unknown's throat. "Ha, dog!"
Joshua choked, and tried to tear apart the gripping fingers. "'Tis
I--Joshua!" he gasped.
The grip slackened at once. Sir Nicholas sat up, and was shaken with
laughter. "Ye were nigh sped that time, chewet! What a-plague ails you
to come pawing me?"
"Matter enough," Joshua said. "Ha' done with your laughter, sir! Yon
Frenchman's crept below stairs to steal the mare."
"What!" Beauvallet swung his legs off the bed, and felt for his shoon.
"Cock's passion, that whey-faced maltworm! How learned you this?"
Joshua was groping for his breeches. "I waked to hear one go creeping
down the stairs. A step creaked. Be sure I was alert upon the instant!
_I_ do not fall cup-shotten into a stupor."
"Peace, you elf-skin! What then?"
"Then might I hear the door open stealthily below, and in a moment a
cloaked fellow with a lantern crosses the yard to the barn. Ho, thinks
I----"
"Give me my sword," Beauvallet interrupted, and made for the door.
"I shall be with you on the instant!" Joshua hissed after him. "A
plague on these points!"
Sir Nicholas went swiftly down the stairs, sword in hand, and crossed
the taproom in two bounds to the door. Outside in the yard was bright
moonlight, and to the right the barn cast a great black shadow. Through
the door came the glimmer of a lantern, and the muffled sound of
movement.
Beauvallet gave his head a little shake, as though to cast off the
lingering fumes of the wine he had drunk, and went forward, cat-like,
over the cobbles.
Inside the barn the Frenchman was hurriedly buckling saddle-girths.
Beauvallet's mare was bridled already. A lantern stood upon the baked
mud floor, and the Frenchman's cloak and hat were flung down beside it.
His fingers trembled a little as he tugged at the straps; his back was
turned towards the door.
There came a sound to make him jump well-nigh out of his skin, and spin
round to face the door. Sir Nicholas stood there with a naked sword in
his hand, laughing at him.
"Oho, my young iniquity!" said Sir Nicholas, and laughed again. "Now I
think you are shent!"
For an instant the Frenchman stood at gaze, his face all twisted with
fury. And Beauvallet set his sword point to the ground, and laughed at
his discomfiture. Then, suddenly, the Frenchman sprang forward, tearing
his sword from the scabbard, and in his leap contrived to kick over the
lantern, and put out its frail light. Sir Nicholas stood in the shaft
of moonlight in the open doorway, but all else in the barn was pitch
dark.
Beauvallet's sword flashed out before him; he sprang lightly to one
side, felt a blade thrust within a hair's breadth of his shoulder, and
lunged swiftly forward. His point went home; there was a choked gurgle,
the clatter of a sword falling to earth, and a dull thud.
Beauvallet swore beneath his breath, and stood listening, backed
against the wall, with a shortened sword. Only the uneasy snorting and
pawing of the horses broke the silence. He moved forward cautiously,
and stumbled against something that lay on the ground at his feet.
"God's Body, have I killed the boy?" he muttered, and bent over the
still figure.
Across the yard Joshua came running at full-tilt, and bounded into the
barn. "'Swounds! What's here? Master? Sir Nicholas!"
"A plague on your screechings! Help me with this carcass."
"What, dead?" gasped Joshua, feeling in the darkness.
"I know not." Sir Nicholas spoke curtly. "Take you his legs, and help
me to bear him out. So!"
They carried their burden out into the moonlight, and laid it down on
the cobbles. Beauvallet knelt, and stripped open the elegant doublet,
feeling for the heart. A clean-edged wound was there, deep and true.
"Peste, I thrust better than I knew," Beauvallet muttered. "The devil!
But the young traitor sought to murder me. What's this?"
A silken packet was in his hand, attached to a riband about the dead
man's neck.
"Open," said Joshua, shivering. "Perchance you might learn his name."
"What should that benefit me, fool?" But Sir Nicholas took the packet,
and thrust it into his doublet. "This is to ruin all. We must bury him,
Joshua, and that speedily. No noise mind!"
"Bury! With your sword?" Joshua said. "The evil hour! Nay, wait! As I
remember there are tools within the barn."
An hour later, the grim work done, Sir Nicholas, thoroughly sobered
now, came softly back to the inn. He was frowning a little. This was
an ill happening, and had gone otherwise than he had planned. Yet who
would have thought that the young fool would play the traitor so? He
mounted silently to his chamber again, and sat down on the bed, while
Joshua relit the lantern.
It was set upon the chest. Beauvallet slowly wiped his sword, and
returned it to its scabbard. He drew forth the packet from his breast,
and slit open the silk with his dagger. Crackling sheets of paper
were inside. Beauvallet bent towards the lamp. His eyes ran over the
first sheet frowningly, and came to rest on the signature. A short
exclamation broke from him, and he pulled the lantern nearer yet. He
held a letter from the Guise to King Philip in his hand, but the bulk
of it was writ in cypher.
Joshua, inquisitively hovering at hand, ventured a question. "What is
it, master? Doth the writing give his name, perchance?"
Beauvallet was looking now at a fair-inscribed pass. "It seems, my
Joshua," he said, "that I have slain a scion of the house of Guise."
"God mend my soul!" quoth Joshua. "Shall it serve, master? Shall we
turn it to good account?"
"Since these purport to be papers writ to his Catholic Majesty it seems
we may turn it to very good account," Sir Nicholas said, poring over
the first paper again. "Now, I have some knowledge of cyphers, as I
believe...." He looked up. "Get you to bed, rogue, get you to bed!"
An hour later Joshua, waking as he turned on his bed, saw Sir Nicholas
seated still by the chest, with a soaked cloth bound about a head which
Joshua judged had good cause to ache, and his brows close-knit over the
papers. Joshua closed his eyes again, and sank back into slumber.
He woke again to broad daylight. Sir Nicholas lay asleep in the big
bed; there was no sign of the papers. Joshua dressed softly, and stole
away downstairs. He found there a perplexed landlord who was loud in
abuse of the young gentleman who had stolen away in the night without
paying his shot. Joshua's casual interest in this was well acted. He
asked the proper questions, exclaimed piously at such behaviour, and
thought privately of the night's work.
In a little while the voice of Sir Nicholas was heard, calling for his
man. Joshua skipped upstairs with a tray bearing his master's breakfast.
Sir Nicholas was wide awake, and as brisk as though he had not sat up
through the night puzzling over a cypher. His eyes were bright and
unclouded; only a damp cloth on the floor bore witness of the night's
labours.
Joshua set down the tray, and shook out a clean shirt for Sir Nicholas.
"Look you, master, there is a deal of pother below, on account of
we-know-what. Where is the man gone? why is he gone? I do not presume
to answer, me, but I consider it meet we should make all speed over the
Frontier."
"Just as soon as I have broken my fast," said Beauvallet. "See that
door well-shut. Now, rogue, give ear a minute." He drank some wine, and
broke off a piece of rye bread. "I am become overnight the Chevalier
Claude de Guise, do ye mark me?"
"Well, master. I said we might turn all to good account."
"The best. I don't fathom all these papers, and one is sealed fast. But
enough to serve, I judge. Matters too high for you, but ye may know
that we travel henceforth as a secret messenger from the Guise to King
Philip. Hey, but I have meat for Walsingham in this!" He stretched, and
reached out a hand for his shirt. "A great venture, rogue--the greatest
I have been on."
"Like to end in nasty wise," Joshua grumbled. "Secret messengers,
forsooth! Ay, we shall be so secret there's none will hear of us again."
"An ill jest. This as mad a quest as I have ever known. Does your
courage fail? Turn back then, you have still time."
Joshua threw out his chest. "Ho, pretty speaking! I follow to the end.
Moreover, it has been foretold that I shall die in my bed. What have I
to fear?"
"On then," said Sir Nicholas, and laughed. "On, and reck not!"